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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24399460">Picnics in the Imagination</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/my_happy_little_bean/pseuds/my_happy_little_bean'>my_happy_little_bean</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sanders Sides (Web Series)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Family Vibes, LAMP/CALM - Freeform, Other, a pic...fic?, look im just trying to improve on my characterization and i'm afraid it didn't work, picnic fic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 04:02:08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,298</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24399460</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/my_happy_little_bean/pseuds/my_happy_little_bean</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone stared at those two bees in front of them;<br/>what were they doing? </p><p>Or: the sides share a moment in the Imagination.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Anxiety | Virgil &amp; Creativity | Roman &amp; Logic | Logan &amp; Morality | Patton, LAMP/CALM</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>39</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Picnics in the Imagination</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>warnings: mild swearing, insecurity, slight hurt/comfort vibes</p><p>a/n- hello! pls excuse this like, weird character study of a one shot heh. i have been having trouble with characterization, so i guess my way to solve that was to,,,write solely based on characterization lol. it was good practice, and even if it’s a bit rough, i still hope you enjoy it :)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There were two bees fighting in front of him.</p><p>They were about seven feet away, and he decided that he should be able to outrun them if they decided to team up against him; or worse, if they were going to attract some equally-terrifying friends. But for the time being, they seemed like they were too wrapped up in trying to murder each other to even notice him. </p><p>It made Virgil wonder why Roman did stuff like that; why he would create a world so beautiful, only to have it destroy itself. He wondered if the self-inflicted drama was some stupid way of him validating his own strength or whatever.</p><p>Or maybe it was only this destructive when Virgil was here. </p><p>It wasn’t too far-fetched of an idea. That was why it took two and a half weeks to convince Virgil to even take a step into the Imagination again, let alone sit down in it and eat sandwiches. </p><p>Though, who could really blame him? He wasn’t meant to exist here, where everything was all special and breathtaking and make-believe. It was <em>literally</em> everything he wasn’t. The last time he was here, it had seemed like the Imagination was actively trying to push him out via a million tiny goblins. </p><p>(Virgil couldn’t help but shudder at the memory of stuffing them all in a box, frantically searching for the key to trap them there forever before they set off again and ruin someone else’s hat.)</p><p>And even if it was okay for him to be here, there wasn’t much for him to do. No one wanted to imagine the storms Virgil found himself under, anyway. After all, the things Roman triumphantly held on the ends of his sword were from monsters Virgil embodied. The grass he stepped on literally burned at the tips if he stood on it for too long.</p><p>So why did he feel so...so <em>safe?</em></p><p>Logan had told him once that the Imagination responded to everyone who stepped into its territory. It was supposed to be reassurance, but it was something that scared Virgil the most; that something could reflect the heavy static he could barely walk across everyday. And the first few times he was here, it did.</p><p>But now, the Imagination felt like a weighted blanket; almost suffocating at first, but gave way to the unfamiliar feeling of a hug. If he closed his eyes for a second, he could hear a distant thunderstorm coming from who-knows-where; a gentle memory of the only natural disaster he found comfort in. And the grass he stepped would burn, yes, but not all the time now; and it would always resolve itself anyway by bringing to light a small, black rose from the ashes.</p><p>His place in the Imagination today only reminded him of the effort everyone was willing to put forth for <em>him</em>; that everything was slowly getting used to the fact that he wasn’t some leech latching onto the sun. Roman eased the worries of his creation, one that had once despised him and all he was; and then eased the worries of Virgil, who didn’t believe he could finally be anything other than the bad guy. Logan made the plans—he always made the plans—and Patton…</p><p>Well, Patton tried <em>everything</em>. </p><p>He took a sip from his tea and set it aside, pulling his hood over his head and curling up on Patton’s lap. He heard the side giggle and felt him push his hood back ever-so slightly; just to scratch idly behind his ear and braid his fingers through his hair. </p><p>And Virgil let him.</p><p>Besides, he was too wrapped up in another thought to really care much; the thought that he wasn’t in the moment enough that the moment would pass him by before he could properly appreciate it. He couldn’t help but think about how everyone would eventually pack their things when his storm finally came around. He picked at the sharp grass beside him, scared that it would all go away somehow when he finally– <em>finally</em>– woke up from this dream.</p><p>He couldn’t help but look up at the bright blue skies above him. </p><p>Virgil sighed, chewing his bottom lip nervously. The Imagination, even as a concept, was so daunting. It stretched so far beyond him that it pretty much scared him shitless. The clouds looked like they could fall on him at any given second, and the bees—as pretty as they are— were still fighting; who’s to say they couldn’t hurt him too?</p><p>But it was beautiful. </p><p>And he was <em>here</em>. </p><p>Virgil closed his eyes and heard the soft sound of rain, far far away.</p><p>And when he opened his eyes,<br/>he saw Roman, </p><p>who was shaking his head at him with a knowing smile. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Roman couldn’t help but beam as he watched the two bees in front of him dance, a harmonious waltz above the lush, green grass they grew. Logan could say anything he wanted about the Imagination; the real world could never compare to all of <em>this</em>.</p><p>Or at least, that’s what Roman used to think. </p><p>Truth be told, the Imagination was only this beautiful when Thomas was satisfied. For the most part, Roman would be running around, dousing fires– <em>literal fires</em>– in every direction. He’d end his days without really ending them, fighting monsters to make his world flawless when the sun rose. This picnic was actually the first time he really stood still in the Imagination since…well, since the Great Goblin Incident of 2019; though that was less of a wake-up call and more of an unwelcome surprise.</p><p>(Roman wasn’t able to get the goo out of his hair for <em>weeks</em>.) </p><p>And he took great pride in how special his creation was. After all, he made it — and he was pretty awesome. He was able to plant seeds in Thomas’s mind and thus grow a beautiful, magnificent garden. He grew so many gardens actually. He’d grow them left and right, without much of a thought. Anything to spruce up the place.</p><p>But there were other days when the Imagination would claw at him for more– for something else. It would grab his ankles as he walked and drag him through the ground when he least expected it, begging him for a new garden; a new village; a new adventure; a new <em>anything</em>. </p><p>And at some point, the Imagination became his office. Sure, it was a place Roman would escape to so he could build a tower to hide in when the real world got too much. But it was also a place that Roman would eventually give into; one that would force him to stay the night so he could finish that thing– there was always that one <em>thing</em>. </p><p>It was where he would fight Anxiety and <em>win</em>. It was where Morality would cheer for him and carry him on his shoulders with glee. It was where Logic didn’t exist. </p><p>It was a place where Roman was <em>everyone’s</em> hero;<br/>where everyone <em>needed</em> Creativity.</p><p>Not today, though. </p><p>Today, the sun glowed bright in the crystal-clear skies without him. He didn’t need the birds to sing him ballads, and he didn’t need the squirrels to care about him all that much. And he would come here to work, yes; but he’d come here to appreciate his work as well. </p><p>Nowadays, Patton, Virgil, even <em>Logan</em> appreciated his work alongside him. They saw beauty in every crack Roman would dwell over; saw love and care in each one of his masterpieces. They even took the time to appreciate the gruelling effort that bled through his creation and made sure he was resting– <em>actually</em> <em>resting</em>– when he was done for the day. </p><p>And he vowed to repay their love — even if they insisted that he didn’t need to. A glorious battle, perhaps! He could put himself in danger for them, just to show them he would. He could even wage a war with the feelings the others held too close to their chests, those feelings embodied as gruesome monsters and foe,  and he would <em>win</em>. Every time. </p><p>Because Roman could never lose. Not with them by his side.</p><p>He looked around him with a bright smile and a dawning realization, one that he came across a thousand times, nowadays:</p><p>The realization that he was surrounded by everything he could ever need.</p><p>Roman finished another song on his ukulele and Patton burst into applause. Logan simply nodded at his performance, flipping through another page of the book Roman recommended to him. Virgil just pulled his hoodie over his head and curled up in Patton’s lap. </p><p>Poor storm-cloud. He almost felt sad watching him. A part of him would always be jaded by the fact that he ever hurt Virgil. </p><p>Roman stood up and walked a few feet away from everyone else, looking off into the distance before closing his eyes. He thought for a little while, and then sent the wind away to bring back the sound of rain and sprinkle it over their heads. </p><p>That would hopefully help.</p><p>He turned around and looked at the rest of his family. For a moment, everything seemed to freeze. He could feel the grass tickle his feet, as if it were planning to lift him off the ground any second now. A cool breeze weaved itself through his hair and when they dropped off the sound of rain, they picked up the song Roman played to spread it across the land. </p><p>He looked up at the sky and watched the birds soar above them, </p><p>and thought about how his creation no longer hated him. </p><p>He then met Virgil’s eyes, <br/>and wondered if he felt the same thing.</p><p><em>Nothing can hurt you here</em>, Roman thought. <em>Not anymore.</em></p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Swarming was a natural process in the life of a honey bee colony. It was a method of propagation; one that occurred in response to crowding within the colony. If a bee was huddled close to another, it was most likely that they were in the beginning phases of attracting a swarm. </p><p>Perhaps that is what those two bees were doing in front of them. </p><p>
  <em>How fascinating. </em>
</p><p>Logan took a break from reading to take in his surroundings. Roman must have dedicated a respectable amount of time to making the Imagination so faithful to real life. The way each tree was carved in patterns unlike each other, the way the waters seemed to move endlessly and not on a loop. </p><p>He knew they were not real. None of them were. So it was interesting to think that not one part of Roman’s world was fabricated in a way that was mechanical and half-hearted; but was instead crafted with such caution and care. Every grass in its own, respective place; every flower grown for a reason. </p><p>Logan had made numerous visits to the Imagination in the past; for research purposes, more often than not. Well, other than the dreadful incident with the exploding goblins; though his presence in the whole ordeal was the by-product of an untimely coincidence.</p><p>He had interviewed Roman countless times to learn more about this place, but he was yet to leave with an unbiased point of view. Roman would not contribute many useful points to their discussions, choosing to speak only in fanciful, <em>unhelpful</em> metaphors. All he would say about the Imagination was that it merely existed; and it existed so beautifully that it did not need much explanation. </p><p>Everything was there for a reason he could not explain. </p><p>He had compiled a few notes based on his own extrapolations and observations; consuming knowledge he would then pass onto Thomas so that he could better understand himself (or onto Virgil, to ease his trepidation towards Roman’s creation).</p><p>However, he had never really taken the time to just...sit in it. </p><p>There were so many creatures and biomes, even cities; all nestled safely underneath the boundless shelter of the Imagination. And the sky was always stunning, no matter the weather. He wondered if Roman would allow him into this strange place more often for recreational purposes. He wondered if Roman would even enjoy his company.</p><p>The picnic, of course, was Patton’s idea. It was his way of “bonding” with everyone. Patton had many ideas of what ‘bonding’ looked like — weekly onesie-and-movie nights, having dinner together (even if they did not need to consume food), bi-weekly board game nights, et cetera. With so many options, Logan was not quite sure why Patton found the need to spend even <em>more</em> time with him. </p><p>He was not blind to the fact that his presence was not arbitrary. Really, his only function was to present knowledge when needed, then allow the others to use that knowledge in order to make Thomas...well, content. If anyone were to benefit from Patton’s many “family excursions”, it was Virgil. His attempts of reassuring the anxious side paled in comparison to Patton’s efforts. </p><p>Logan, unlike the rest of them, did not need love or affection; nor was it necessary that he ‘bonded’ with anyone. He just needed to exist for everyone and live to exist for as long as he could. </p><p>He was not real, anyway. </p><p>(Though, the thought haunted him far more than he would like to admit.)</p><p>He snuck a brief glance at Patton, who was enthralled by Roman’s performance under the sun. It was almost as if the sunshine in the Imagination folded itself around him; like he was the one keeping it warm.</p><p>Patton seemed to thrive in the Imagination; and for good reason, too. He was everything the Imagination was; a safe haven, a home, <em>alive</em>. He could extend the observation to Roman, even Virgil. They all belonged here, rested on the grass underneath the brilliant sun.</p><p>Logan...did as well. </p><p>The thought was hesitant—illogically so—but it was reassuring enough that it was there. Normally, he would think the opposite, but his counterparts only reassured him that that was not the case. He really did belong here, on the same pedestal as them; for reasons unrelated to work. </p><p>He was a part of their silly...loving family.</p><p>And they were real enough; real enough that he was able to absentmindedly hold Patton’s hand as he coddled Virgil on his lap. He was real enough to look at Roman work his magic in this strange wonder of a world and feel a sense of pride for him.</p><p>He was real enough to feel close with them; even though there were times when it felt like he was better off uninvited.</p><p>Perhaps this was the meaning behind Patton’s madness. Perhaps it was his way of reassuring him that he, like the rest of the sides, were just simply loved; unconditionally and without a doubt. It is a feeling that, surprisingly enough, Logan held close to him.</p><p>No amount of research would ever be able to tell him why. </p><p>He sighed, going back to his book and flipping to the next page. The Imagination, at the end of the day, was simply an enigma; constructed by weird science and magic alike. </p><p>But his family...well, they turned the Imagination into a reminder of how special existence was; how delicate the universe crafted each and every one of them. </p><p>How purposeful it was when creating him.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p><em>Aww, look at those bees playin’ with each other, </em>Patton thought happily to himself. <em>What good friends they are!</em></p><p>The Imagination was un-<em>bee</em>-lievable. The fact that his kiddo made the whole thing himself? He couldn’t <em>imagine</em> how difficult it must have been! He was so proud of him. </p><p>He was proud of everyone, really; which was precisely why he planned this picnic! Roman created such a beautiful place, Logan worked so hard, and Virgil...well, he had finally said yes.</p><p>And besides, it was just <em>nice</em>. For once, there was nothing to do. No difficult thinking, no one to fight. It was just him and his family, sitting under the big, blue sky.</p><p>Surprisingly enough, this was the first time Patton ever visited the Imagination when it was sunny. More often than not, Patton would visit the Imagination after-hours; sneak in when he knew everyone was asleep. Most of the time, he’d get caught by Roman; who was just as restless as him, yet more curious as to why he was there. Patton would never tell him the real reason, though — only saying that he wanted to check in on him. It wasn’t really a lie, anyway. It was just the right thing to do.</p><p>The Imagination was different in the night. Patton was sure that he was one of the only other sides to have seen it. It felt more like an ode to Thomas’s youth; the years when he would tape glow-in-the-dark stars to his ceiling and try to catch fireflies in mason jars. Each daisy seemed to sway in the warm sense of familiarity the wind carried; and the ocean always looked like it was folding on top of each other in a sea of scribbles coloured Pacific, Navy, and Midnight Blue. </p><p>If he squinted, Patton could see constellations in the sky. Dancing in the velvet blanket above him were stars, mapping out the image of a young boy helping someone off the ground after a nasty fall.</p><p>It was his perfect Thomas.<br/>Always selfless, always <em>perfect</em>.</p><p>On the nights when Roman would find him, sitting on top of a hill with his knees brought close to his chest, he would always let Patton lie down in his lap and weave him a fairytale; one that Thomas used to love. The prince would always save the day. The teacher would explain absolutely everything. The mind would never reel, and the heart was always right.</p><p>He couldn’t help but miss it. He missed the days when it seemed like royalty could be as honourable as the ones in Thomas’s old picture books; that learning was not as painful as it was now. And while the mind was buried through layers of heavy static and storm clouds, the heart didn’t know the way.</p><p>Thomas wasn’t as good as he wanted him to be, <br/>and Patton just didn’t know what to do. </p><p>But all of that didn’t really matter in the Imagination. The fact that it was bright and sunny only meant that Thomas was the same goofy, loving child he used to be. Sure, a few things slip past Roman every now and then (Patton would never ever ever forget what those goblins did to his new top-hat), but that didn’t mean that Thomas was inherently bad. </p><p>Besides, the day was just as beautiful as the night. With Thomas all grown up, he was creating things Patton could only dream of. Yes, storms would still roll around; but they would always give way to a beautiful rainbow. </p><p>The Imagination was always the same, no matter what crossed its path. </p><p>And perhaps, the same thing could be said about him.</p><p>Patton tried his best to get lost in the music Roman was playing for the group. He set aside his sandwich, and snuck glances at Virgil and Logan. They seemed at peace; Virgil was drinking tea he made for him, and Logan was reading a book. </p><p>And if Roman was singing, it meant that Patton still had it in him to bring his family together. </p><p>Patton sighed wistfully. He would do anything to capture this moment in any way he could. He wanted this single second to last forever. He yearned to keep the sunshine safe and sound in a small jar to put on his shelves. </p><p>Really, he just wanted everyone to be happy. </p><p>But as beautiful as nights in the Imagination were, <br/>Patton could learn to love the present if it felt this good. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>comments/kudos/random letters/whatever are great! you can find me on my tumblr, @my-happy-little-bean :)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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